


Nine Holes of Golf

by hapakitsune



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Finland (Country), Golf, M/M, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 11:52:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2387306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hapakitsune/pseuds/hapakitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Retirement is more difficult to adjust to than Teemu thought it would be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nine Holes of Golf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Resistance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resistance/gifts).



> Written for the rare pair fest thing! The prompts I went with were a request for Paul/Teemu and wanting to see a European player showing his North American partner around his country. Names of Teemu's family members have been changed (though kept as similar as possible to avoid confusion) for google and my own personal reasons. Thanks to those who helped usher this into being, especially conrad for reading this over last minute and the organizers of this fest for not killing me when I ended up writing like 5k of this the day it was due.

On Tuesday morning, Teemu brings coffee to Paul’s house as a peace offering and is somewhat annoyed to discover that Paul is awake and alert and has probably been so for hours. Teemu always figured that Paul would sleep in on days he wasn’t catching the early surf in Huntington. That’s what Teemu has been doing since he decided to retire for good, for real this time. He helps with the kids three times a week, Saana coming to his room to wake him up and remind him it’s his turn to take them to school or camp, but then his days are free. It has been – odd. 

Paul promised once that he would take Teemu golfing, and though golfing isn’t Teemu’s favorite sport, he’s itching for something to do. Golf is slow and often boring, and it takes a full day to complete a course. It’s poor substitute for hockey, something he was reminded of every summer. Paul being there is a good incentive, though. Teemu is sure Paul loves golf. He has probably honed his swing to the millimeter and keeps meticulous track of his scores. 

“What are you doing here?” Paul asks when he answers the door. 

“Very nice,” Teemu says. “Good morning. I brought you coffee.”

“Hi,” Paul says, rolling his eyes. “How are you? No camera crew this time?”

“I don’t always have a camera crew,” Teemu says. “I didn’t have one last time.”

Paul takes the coffee and lets Teemu inside. His house is cool, a nice respite from the late summer heat. Paul has apparently been reading the _LA Times_ ; the day’s edition is folded on his kitchen island, and there’s a half-empty bowl of cereal beside it. Teemu goes to Paul’s fridge and picks out a container of yogurt for himself. When he sits down next to Paul, Paul moves his coffee and bowl to give Teemu more room without even looking up. 

Paul resumes reading his newspaper, and Teemu watches him until Paul puts it down and demands, “What?”

“Nothing,” Teemu says. 

“Why are you even here?” Paul asks, kicking Teemu lightly. “Don’t you have things to do?”

“You said we would golf,” Teemu says. “Take me golfing, Paul.” He smiles brightly at Paul, who narrows his eyes. 

“Really?” Paul asks. 

“Yes,” Teemu says. “And later, you can teach me surfing.”

“I can?” Paul asks, but he’s starting to smile. Teemu loves that smile, how easily Paul gives it to him. He’s never understood people who say that Paul is hard to read; he’s easy to read, as long as you know his language. 

They drive together to the golf course, Paul at the wheel because he hates Teemu’s driving. Teemu retaliates by fiddling with Paul’s carefully pre-tuned radio stations. He watches Paul’s mouth twitch like he wants to say something, but Paul is stubborn and more patient than Teemu has ever been, so eventually Teemu gives up trying to provoke him and sits back in his seat. Paul doesn’t say much except to argue when Teemu tries to give him directions, laughing when Teemu pretends to grab the wheel away from him. 

Once they’ve arrived at the course, Teemu insists on driving the golf cart since Paul drove the car. He’s pretty sure Paul only acquiesces because the carts can’t go faster than fifteen miles an hour. They spend a little time getting set up, arguing about tee placement and who gets to go first before playing rock, paper, scissors for it. Paul wins. 

“So how’s retirement going?” Paul asks as he sets up for his swing.

“Boring,” Teemu says. “I have the kids, I suppose, but they’re busy.”

Paul nods. Paul is not great with kids, Teemu has discovered, a little too awkward and self-conscious around them to be natural. He’s all right with fans, since he seems to know where he stand with them, but Teemu remembers inviting Paul over for dinner once when the boys were young and watching them climb all over him. Paul had sat there and taken it with good grace, but hadn’t seemed to know what to say. 

“You just need to find something to fill the time,” Paul says. He winds back and smacks the ball cleanly from the tee. It soars elegantly into the air before hitting the top of its arc and dropping unceremoniously into a sandtrap. 

Paul swears under his breath. Teemu pats him on the back. “Better luck next time,” he says. 

 

Over the next few weeks, Paul and Teemu go golfing a total of eight times. They never finish a complete course, just playing until Teemu decides he’s bored and drags them to the clubhouse to eat. He’s glorying a little in the fact that he can eat whatever he pleases, though he doesn’t want to become one of those players who doubles in size once they retire. Paul eats as healthily as he always did as a player in careful portions of protein, vegetables, carbs, and fat. Teemu half expects Paul to pull out his phone and calculate caloric intake at the table. 

Teemu has vague plans to go to Finland for a few weeks, nothing firm because he tends to decide at the last minute these days. Sanaa decides around mid-June that July is the time to go and books flights for all them. She’s taking the kids for half the time to see her family, they’ve (she’s) decided, and then Teemu will take them to see his mom and brother. Teemu is good with this, except for how it means he’s leaving soon and he and Paul have made tentative plans to go golfing up at Pasatiempo in Santa Cruz. 

“It’s okay,” Paul says when Teemu explains the situation to him. “You have to go see your family. I figured you’d be going back some time this summer.”

Despite his tone, which sounds as light as before, Teemu sees the way Paul’s gaze slides away from him, and before he can think better of it, Teemu finds himself saying, “You’re welcome to come along, if you want.”

“To Finland?” Paul laughs, inviting Teemu to laugh too. If Teemu wanted he could smile and pretend it was a joke, but Teemu realizes he likes the idea of bringing Paul with him. Every time they played the Canucks, Teemu would joke that he had seen Paul’s home, why doesn’t Paul come back to Finland with him? It never worked out, of course, because they both had their own training schedules and after a time they weren’t even on the same team anymore. 

“Yes,” Teemu says. “Come to Finland with me.”

“I can’t, you’re going to see your family,” Paul protests. 

“They’d be glad to have you, too,” Teemu says. “Come on, what else do you have to do?”

Paul tries a variety of excuses, each less convincing than the last, and by the time he gives in, Teemu has already booked him a seat on his flight via Sanaa. Paul looks resigned when Teemu says as much, but nods and says to forward him the e-ticket. 

Teemu and Paul take the same cab to the airport, sitting carefully apart. Paul doesn’t like flying, something Teemu only learned when they played together in Colorado. By then Paul had fallen out of the habit of locking down every hint of vulnerability, and Teemu remembers looking over on a flight to New York to see Paul gripping the armrest between them, his knuckles slowly whitening. Teemu had taken his hand in a bid to chase the panic from Paul’s clenched jaw, but Paul had instead gripped so tight that it took Teemu several minutes to shake the feeling back into his fingers after the plane had leveled off. 

It’s a long flight, more than fifteen hours. Teemu is sitting up with Sanaa and the children, soothing his daughter through take off and supervising them as Sanaa sleeps against the window, her mouth half-open. It used to be that Teemu always got first shift of sleep, but Sanaa has, since Teemu’s retirement, insisted that he no longer get first dibs on everything. It was her turn now to pursue her passions. It was an old argument, one that had been resolved only by divorce. The couple’s therapy they had gone to along the way had shown Teemu that yes, maybe he has been selfish over the years, but he didn’t – doesn’t – know how to be anything other than a hockey player. 

The kids pass out after a couple of hours, leaving Teemu to nap intermittently and watch movies. Around the halfway mark, he goes to look for Paul and finds him asleep, head lolling to one side. Teemu crouches down in the aisle and considers waking him. He remembers how angry Paul used to be when Teemu woke him on the bus, and he straightens up, heading down the plane towards the restrooms. 

They chase the sunrise across the northern Atlantic. Teemu dozes, intermittently jerking awake to sunlight on his face. His daughter curls up on his lap partway through, pushing the armrest out of the way and laying her head on his thigh. He strokes her white-blonde hair and thinks that maybe this is what life is supposed to be after hockey. 

Helsinki is, as always, a welcome sight. California is amazing, and he has come to love the Pacific Ocean and the year-round sun. Lord knows he does not miss the icy, pitch-dark winters of his childhood, but even so there is nothing like stepping out of the hired car and inhaling the salt of the Baltic and hearing Finnish around him and knowing he’s home. 

The family has an apartment away from the city center, one he and Sanaa bought when they were still married. Like many of the things they owned then, they have continued to share it, and it’s here that they bring the children and Paul. Paul has sunglasses on the entire way, face turned up towards the sky, and his hand rests on the seat a centimeter from Teemu’s knee. His hands have always been of interest to Teemu, long and slim, delicate knuckles and blunt finger tips. They look like instruments of use and value.

Sanaa is watching him when he looks up. In the seats behind them, their sons are arguing loudly over the Avengers. Eetil thinks the Hulk is the best Avenger. They’ve switched back to Finnish, the way they always do when they arrive. 

“What?” he asks her. 

“Are you going to take him to HGK?” she asks. 

“I suppose,” he says. “I thought I would show him the city first.”

“Hmm, take the kids,” Sanaa says. “I’m going to sleep.” She smiles, sharp, and Teemu is reminded both why he married her and why they divorced. Part of him finds it exciting that she’s pushing her wants so much now; part of him is a little annoyed because, as much as he loves his children, he wants to spend time with Paul. 

“Okay,” he says. “I suppose that’s possible.”

Sanaa rolls her eyes heavenward. “You suppose.”

Venla pops her head over the seat to look at them and asks, “Are you fighting?”

“No,” Sanaa and Teemu say in unison. 

They arrive at the apartment around lunch time, so Sanaa puts off her nap to join them at a restaurant nearby. Teemu makes an effort to speak in English for Paul’s benefit, but he catches himself slipping back into Finnish whenever the kids start talking about their plans for the summer. Eelis has a girl that he has a crush on, something that Eetil and Luukas take great delight in mocking him for. Eelis, with all the grace of the adult he now proudly claimed he was, ignores them. 

Paul takes it all with good humor, engaging Sanaa in conversation about her family while the kids chatter on. Teemu nudges Paul once and asks if he’s okay; Paul smiles, small and private, and says, “Teemu, how long have I known you?”

Teemu has to think back, calculating the years in his head. “Eighteen years? About?”

“Do you really think I haven’t picked up any Finnish in that time?” Paul’s smile widens when Teemu stares at him. “What?”

“You never said!” Teemu says accusingly. 

“It’s not like I’m fluent, but I can kind of figure out some things.” Paul turns to Sanaa and says, in careful Finnish, “Thank you for inviting me.”

“You’ve been practicing,” Sanaa says in English, sounding impressed. “Don’t lie to poor Teemu. He’s flattered, really.”

“You learned Finnish?” Teemu kicks Paul under the table. “And you didn’t _tell_ me?”

“It was a surprise,” Paul says. His cheeks are pinking slightly, just a bare hint of color. Teemu goes warm all over as he stares at the corner of Paul’s smile and the droplet of water clinging to the curve of his lower lip. 

“Dad,” says Luukas, poking him in the arm. “Dad, tell Eelis he’s wrong.”

“Eelis, you’re wrong,” Teemu says. “What are you talking about?”

“Dad,” whines Eelis, and Teemu forgets about Paul for the moment in favor of mediating the argument between his sons. 

Sanaa returns to the apartment after lunch. The kids campaign to walk along the edge of Töölönlahti Bay, telling Teemu that Paul should see the Olympic Stadium and the geese that populate the waterside. Teemu personally thinks the geese are a nuisance, but maybe Paul will like them. Paul just smiles and says for Teemu to lead the way. He’s loose, arms at his sides instead of crossed over his chest like Teemu is used to seeing, and his hand keeps bumping Teemu’s as they walk from the restaurant towards the water. 

Venla starts pouting as the ground begins to rise, and Teemu swings her onto his back without even waiting for her to ask. She clings to his neck, yelling at her brothers in Finnish, loud enough that Teemu winces. He catches Paul watching them with an amused look in his eye. Teemu discreetly flips him off. 

The walk alongside Töölönlahti Bay is beautiful in the summertime, the path shaded by thick trees and overlooking the water. There’s a family of swans paddling around near the shore, and Luukas stops to kneel and take pictures with his phone. Paul crouches down beside him to watch, and for a moment it feels completely natural to see Paul’s dark head bent in towards Luukas’s sun-brightened hair. Teemu readjusts his hold on Venla’s legs and asks her if she wants to get down yet. 

“Nope,” she says cheerfully. “Come on, Daddy!”

There’s a café along the path that has an outdoor patio, and Teemu makes the executive decision that they’re going to sit and have coffee, mostly because his knees are aching. Fifteen plus hours of sitting followed by trying to carry his daughter uphill is a recipe for disaster when it comes to his knees. He sits down heavily on one of the sofas on the patio and stretches his legs out. 

Paul sits down beside him a few minutes later bearing a cappuccino for himself and an espresso for Teemu. The kids have gone off to look at the view over the lake, Venla having jumped on Eelis’s back now. Paul sips at his coffee without saying anything, then sets his cup and saucer down. 

“Want me to massage your legs?” he asks, matter-of-fact. Paul has always been like that, almost intimidatingly straight-forward. No point in asking Teemu if his legs hurt when he can clearly tell that’s the case: more efficient to offer a solution from the start. 

“Sure,” Teemu says. He kicks his feet up into Paul’s lap, laughing when Paul makes a face. “Is this another skill you’ve learned without telling me?”

“I can’t believe you’re mad I learned some Finnish,” Paul says, running his legs up Teemu’s calf until he finds a spot that makes Teemu hiss. Paul digs his thumb into the muscle below Teemu’s kneecap, around the sides, and it’s like sinking into a hot bath, the pain striking and sharp but relaxing at the same time. Paul presses the heels of his palm into Teemu’s lower thigh, coaxing the tension from him.

Teemu starts to drift off as Paul starts in on the other leg. The espresso will help some, but it’s been a long two days and his lack of sleep on the plan is catching up with him. It’s the kind of exhaustion he feels in the base of his neck and down his sides, the kind that drags him back into the sofa’s pillows and invites him to fall asleep. 

Paul pinches his calf.

“Hey,” Teemu says indignantly, opening his eyes. “That hurt!”

“You’re falling asleep,” Paul says accusingly. 

“Just a little,” Teemu says. 

“We need you to get back home,” Paul says. Teemu wonders if Paul noticed that he included himself with the _we_ of the children. “I suppose I could keep walking until I figured out where I was in relationship to the airport –”

“It’s been a long day,” Teemu says. He moves his feet from Paul’s warm lap and tucks them back into his sandals. Paul lifts his coffee cup again, smiling over the rim at him. Teemu stretches his arm out over the back of the sofa and tries to tickle Paul’s neck. Instead, Paul leans back so Teemu’s palm rests against his skin. Teemu rubs his thumb along the prickly hairs at the base of Paul’s head, smiling when Paul sighs and cants toward him. 

“Maybe you have a point,” Paul says. “Sleeping on planes isn’t like sleeping on a bed.”

“No,” Teemu agrees. He squeezes Paul’s neck. “Day after tomorrow we can sleep.”

Paul hums in affirmation and drinks the rest of his coffee. Teemu runs his fingers along the collar of Paul’s shirt, watching to see if Paul shivers. One of his children, out on the other side of the road, shrieks in excitement. 

“Dad!” Venla yells. “A rabbit!”

“She wants to adopt one of them,” Teemu tells Paul. Paul turns to look at him, squinting against the sun. They had forgotten to take their sunglasses on their way from the apartment, which Teemu regrets when the light reflects sharply off the water, but he likes being able to see Paul’s eyes. 

“You’re going to buy her a rabbit, aren’t you,” Paul says. 

“I don’t spoil her _that_ much,” Teemu says. 

“Sanaa told you no.” Paul laughs when Teemu pulls a face and says, “Of course.” He sets down his cup and stands up, stretching his arms above his head and twisting. The hem of his shirt pulls away from his jeans. 

“Dad, are we going?” Eetil demands, looking in towards them. “I’m bored.”

“Yes,” Teemu says, still looking at the skin at the small of Paul’s back. Paul lowers his arms and glances down at him. 

“What next?” he asks. 

They continue up along the water before veering off towards the Olympic Stadium. The kids seem to be flagging, their former exuberance fading in the face of exhaustion. Eelis is back to carrying Venla, who is quiet, and Luukas is dragging his feet as they walk. Paul’s hand bumps against Teemu’s again, and Teemu is struck with the sudden urge to seize it. He used to do that when they were younger, grab Paul around the neck or grab his hand to show him things, and Paul always bore it with an expression like he was having his teeth drilled. 

Teemu takes Paul’s hand and ignores Paul’s startled look. “Come on,” he says, tugging. “It isn’t much, but it’s kind of cool.”

“Teemu –”

“Shh,” Teemu says. “Come on, look.” 

They cross a road and past a stand of trees into a parking lot. On the other side is the stadium, now a little shabby-looking in comparison to the temples to sport that they had in Sochi, Vancouver, or Turin. But Teemu remembers coming to visit it as a child and watching football with his brothers and father and imagining the Olympics being held there. He looks to Paul and sees him gazing at the stadium with a distant look in his eye. His grip on Teemu’s hand tightens briefly. 

“Hey,” Teemu says. “What do you think?”

Paul turns and smiles at him. “Thanks,” he says. “This is cool.”

Back at the apartment, the kids scatter to their rooms. Teemu collapses on the couch, already tipping into sleep. Paul frowns at him, asks, “Don’t you want a bed?” and tries to pull Teemu back upright. 

“The couch is more comfortable,” Teemu says knowledgably. “Come on, try.” He pats the cushions next to him. 

“Thanks, I’ll pass,” says Paul. He drops his hand to Teemu’s head and pushes back some of Teemu’s unruly hair. “Go to sleep.”

Teemu, already halfway there, nods and closes his eyes. He’s asleep within moments, face pressed into the cushion in a way that’s going to leave crease marks. 

 

Teemu sleeps longer than he means on the couch and wakes the next morning to Venla sitting on his legs. She pokes his chin and asks him why he’s sleeping there and not in the bedroom. 

“Mommy has the bedroom and Paul has the guest room,” he tells her, pushing himself upright so he can lift her off his legs. “And the couch is nice.”

“Why can’t you sleep with one of them?” she asks. She looks very displeased that Teemu isn’t making sense to her. “Mommy and you slept together all the time before.”

“Mommy and I aren’t married anymore, remember?” Teemu gets to his feet and stretches. He hadn’t been lying to Paul, the couch really is comfortable, but it really isn’t as nice as a bed when it comes to back support. 

“So only married people sleep in the same bed?” Venla asks. Teemu gives up, because trying to explain things like personal space and sex and the complexities of adult relationships to his six year old is a little much before breakfast and before he’s changed from his rank travel clothes. He distracts her by telling her to pick out what she wants for breakfast and goes to take a shower. 

Paul is coming out of the bathroom attached to the guest room when Teemu heads down the hall to reclaim his clothes from the suitcase in the master bedroom. His hair is sticking up everywhere, as though he’d rubbed a towel through it, and when he sees Teemu, he frowns.

“Did you sleep on the couch all night?” he asks. 

“I was tired,” Teemu says. “Besides, you have the bed, Sanaa has hers –”

“Don’t be stupid,” Paul says. “I have a king bed meant for at least two people. If you and Sanaa aren’t – you shouldn’t have to sleep on the couch.”

Teemu narrows his eyes at Paul. “Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Kariya?”

“Fuck off,” Paul says amiably, shoving at his shoulder. “Go take a shower.”

Teemu tries to grab Paul in a headlock, but Paul eels away, laughing. Teemu kicks vaguely after him and stumps into the bathroom to shower. 

The children want to go to Helsinki Central Park, north of where they had walked the day before, and so after they have all eaten breakfast and showered, they pack up Frisbees and baseballs and mitts and a football before stopping at a store for lunch. Paul trails after them, and Teemu keeps catching sight of him watching them with the same curious expression he used to wear when meeting new people at autograph signings or media events. The kids are more unruly than the day before, Venla and Luukas and Eetil all vying for his attention, while Eelis mostly remains on his cellphone, presumably texting this girlfriend he doesn’t have. 

Once at the park, they find a spot out of the trees to lay out the blankets Sanaa brought along. She lies out to tan while the children run off to play football. Paul picks up the Frisbee meditatively and raises his eyebrows at Paul, half-grinning. Back when Teemu had first moved to Anaheim, Paul had taken him to the beach as an introduction to Southern California, and they had tossed a Frisbee back and forth until the wind had taken it out to sea and neither of them had been willing to run into the February-cold water to retrieve it. 

They toss the Frisbee back and forth across the clearing, moving when it almost hits Sanaa and she sits up to scold them in Finnish. Paul seems to recognize the cruder words, laughing and glancing at Teemu, who shrugs before gesturing him further away. They keep up light conversation – what they’ve heard about old teammates, who’s getting married and who’s having kids, whose house is the most ridiculous and who lost spectacularly in the Stanley Cup pool. 

The thing about Paul – the thing that has always astounded Teemu about Paul – is how good he is at this bland conversation. Before meeting him, he had heard that Paul was standoffish and quiet, and it isn’t precisely _inaccurate_ , but Paul is capable of being friendly, if he chooses. He rarely divulges anything of himself, which perhaps is where that perception came from, and for years it was hard to get him to initiate anything, whether it be a conversation or a hug. When it comes to late nights at restaurants or in shared hotel rooms or on Teemu’s back patio, Paul can be expansive and longwinded, asking Teemu frankly about the divorce and how they manage to live together still when there’s so much history between them. 

At the same time, Teemu has no idea if Paul is dating anyone right now or when the last date he went on was. When he has the chance to think about it, he finds Paul infinitely frustrating and fascinating, and times like now, when he’s watching Paul be animated and friendly, he wonders how it is that Paul has never been married. If there really hasn’t been a single person other than him who would dedicate themselves to uncovering Paul’s intricacies. 

All of them, save Sanaa who had wisely slathered herself in sunscreen, are a little sunburnt when they return to the apartment, and they take turns helping each other with aloe before eating dinner out at an expensive restaurant one of Teemu’s friends owns. Teemu has a little too much wine, and so does Paul, judging by the flush of his cheeks, and Sanaa drinks at least three cocktails that Teemu sees. The children squabble amongst themselves over who gets to order what, since none of them like ordering the same thing as each other. 

Sanaa urges all of the children to bed almost as soon as they get home, Eelis complaining that he’s eighteen now and should be immune to bedtimes, but she reminds him that they have to be up early and he said he’d help her drive, since he has his license and everything. Eelis looks annoyed, but agrees to go off to bed, leaving Teemu and Paul in the living room with another bottle of wine open on the coffee table and the television playing silently.

“It’s beautiful here,” Paul says, pouring himself a glass and holding it meditatively. “You always said.”

“Yes,” Teemu agrees. “In the summer, at least. In the winter, it can be so miserable.”

Paul laughs and nods. “That winter we met,” he says, “do you remember how cold it was? I guess you were in Winnipeg before Boston, but I remember stepping off the plane and thinking, _Thank God I get to go back to California on Sunday._ ”

“We’re spoiled,” Teemu says. “The worst that happens is rain.”

“And it’s so rare it’s almost a treat.” Paul glances over towards Teemu. “Do you think you’ll move back here?”

“I’ve thought about it,” Teemu says honestly. “But I have my restaurant, and the children still are in school. Sanaa has said she might spend more time in Finland with her parents now that I’m retired, but – I have reasons to stay.” He kicks Paul’s ankle lightly. “Who would beat you at golf if I weren’t around?”

Paul smiles. His eyes are getting bloodshot, Teemu notices. He wonders if Paul is drunk. He can count on his fingers the number of times he has seen Paul anywhere past tipsy, the first one being the weekend they met. Paul kicks him back, playful. 

“You aren’t that good,” he says. 

Paul goes to bed before Teemu, reminding him that he can crash on the other side of the bed if he wants. Teemu finishes off the bottle of wine and watches late night crime shows until his eyes grow heavy. He stumbles to the bathroom to brush his teeth and looks in on Paul, who has left the guest bedroom open. Paul is curled up on his side, and for a moment Teemu is tempted – so tempted. 

He returns to the couch and leaves the television on, the light playing across his face as he falls asleep. 

 

Sanaa and the children set out the next morning, crowding into a leased minivan with their luggage. Teemu and Paul bid them farewell at the entrance to the apartment building, Sanaa kissing both their cheeks and muttering that the four hour drive to her sister’s place is going to be hell, why couldn’t she leave near the city like a normal person? Teemu murmurs commiseration, knowing he has his own long drive to his brother’s place to look forward to. Paul thanks Sanaa for bringing him along and letting him stay with them. She whispers something in his ear as they embrace, and Paul laughs as his face flushes. 

“What did she say?” Teemu asks as the car disappears around the corner at the end of the block.”

“Nothing,” Paul says. “Just an old joke.”

They walk to the city center for lunch. Paul is wearing the dark shades he always takes when they go golfing, and Teemu misses the creases at the corners of his eyes and being able to tell if Paul is looking back at him. At the restaurant, Paul sits out of the shade of the awning, and Teemu remembers Paul saying once, back when the concussion symptoms were at their worse, that sunlight gave him headaches. Now he turns his face toward the sky, as though he’s seeking warmth. 

“ _Kiitos_ ,” Paul says when the waiter comes by with a bottle of water for them. Teemu hides his reflexive smile before echoing him. When they played together, they used to go out like this when they were on the road. Paul had his favorite restaurants in every city and a favorite meal at each. Teemu was adventurous and liked to try whatever struck his fancy on that particular day. Paul would eye Teemu’s plate, but would never consent to trying a bite. A creature of habit, his Paul, and steady in his belief in those habits. 

This time Paul doesn’t wave Teemu off when offered a slice of pepper steak. Instead he takes the fork from him and eats the bite with a focused look. Some of the sauce smears along his lower lip. 

The year before, Teemu and Paul had been invited to the wedding of one of their former Avalanche trainers. Paul had been visiting family in Vancouver, but Teemu had gone and clapped the loudest when the bride and groom fed each other pieces of cake, smearing frosting over each other’s mouths and noses. He had taken a photo with his phone, but had forgotten to send it to Paul. The next time they had seen each other, he had shown Paul the photos, and that’s the one Paul had stopped on, looking at it with an expression Teemu was unable to read. 

“What?” Paul asks, self-consciously dabbing at his face with his napkin. He sees the sauce and smiles. “Oh.”

“When do you want to go to the Helsingin Golfklubi?” Teemu asks. “Tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Paul says. “No rush, though.”

“Let’s go,” Teemu says. “I can beat you properly on Finnish territory.”

They wander down the Esplanade during the afternoon, peeking in on expensive stores. Paul buys one of his brothers a watch for his birthday. Teemu buys his mother a scarf from Marimekko, and his sister-in-law a set of dishtowels since she had been complaining in an email recently that all of hers were wearing out. They eat in with the leftovers from the picnic the day before, and when they go to sleep, Teemu takes the master bedroom where the pillows still smell like Sanaa’s shampoo. 

 

They leave early for the golf course and arrive only after the most intense of golfers. They are assigned a caddy by the club, though neither of them particularly need one, and head out to the first hole in the cart. Paul is quiet, as he tends to be in the morning, and only speaks up once they arrive at the first hole, asking if Teemu wants to go first. 

It had been his idea to come, but by the third hole, Teemu is feeling itchy and bored. “How do you do this all the time?” he asks Paul idly as they trudge off to where their balls had landed. 

“What do you mean?”

“This.” Teemu gestures around. “Retirement. I can’t believe you’d give up hockey for this.”

“I didn’t give up hockey,” Paul says coolly. 

“You know what I mean.” They reach Teemu’s ball, and Teemu crouches down to set the pin. “You seemed to go so easily into being retired.”

He looks up and sees Paul staring at him, mouth pressed into a line. Teemu straightens, regretting his choice of words. “Paul, I don’t –”

“I didn’t give up hockey,” Paul repeats. “I didn’t have a _choice_ but to go easily.”

“Paul –”

“You think I wasn’t angry?” Paul demands, taking a step towards him. “That I’m not _still_ angry? You got to ‘give up’ hockey, Teemu. It was taken from me.”

“The Ducks would have taken you, when I asked them to,” Teemu says, knowing even as he says it that it’s stupid and wrong. 

“I could have – just because you _wanted_ me to keep playing with you doesn’t mean I could have!” Paul snaps. “What would have had me do?”

In a perfect world, Teemu would have had Paul play with him forever. Sometimes he dreams about winning the Cup, except that in those dreams it isn’t Chris handing him the Cup, it’s Paul. Paul, who’s clear-eyed and clear-headed and never would have gotten back on the ice right after that Stevens hit, even though that wouldn’t be the Paul that Teemu loves. In a perfect world, Paul would have retired with him and it would have been them and Jean-Sebastian skating around the Honda Center together. Teemu wouldn’t have had to demand that Paul come see him; he simply would have been there.

“I want you to be happy,” Teemu says, voice low. “And hockey made you happy.”

Paul deflates a little, mouth softening. “It isn’t that simple.”

“I know, you have surfing and golf and your friends and your family,” says Teemu. 

“And you,” Paul says. “I manage.”

“I wish you didn’t have to,” Teemu says. 

“Yeah,” Paul says, turning to look off towards where his ball had landed. He doesn’t say anything else, and Teemu wishes again that Paul weren’t wearing his sunglasses so he might see if Paul is still angry. Teemu straightens and sets up his swing, hands steady on the club. 

They don’t talk for another hole. Paul seems focused on golfing – he beats Teemu by three strokes on hole three and six on hole four – but as they’re arriving at hole five, he finally speaks up after Teemu has taken his swing and has moved aside for Paul. 

“She told me to take care of you,” he says.

Teemu starts. “What?”

“Sanaa. Before she left.” Paul squints out towards the distant golf hole, lining up his shot. “We talked about it, at your last game. The one against Colorado, I mean.”

“You talked about – what?”

“We knew you’d be terrible at being retired.” Paul breathes in, breathes out, and takes his swing. The golf ball soars up and out in a graceful arc. They watch in silence as it lands some distance away, closer than Teemu’s own ball. Paul shakes his head in disappointment and faces Teemu, saying, “It’s what she told me when you first moved to Anaheim, too.”

Teemu digests this. “Do you know what she meant?”

“She loves you,” Paul says, shrugging. “I suppose that’s it.”

Teemu privately thinks it’s more that Sanaa likes it when Teemu is taken off her hands, especially these days after she’s gotten used to having so much time alone only to have a newly retired ex-husband hanging around the house. It’s big enough that they don’t see each other all the time, but they’ve gotten in enough arguments that Teemu has half-heartedly looked into finding another house to buy in the area for him to live in. Neither of them love the idea of splitting time with the children, Teemu largely because he has missed so much of their lives so far and Sanaa because she doesn’t trust Teemu to be able to cook nutritious meals for them. 

Paul has started off towards Teemu’s ball. His pants pull tight across his thighs and ass, and his polo shirt is a shade too small around the arms. Teemu has long been impressed with how trim Paul keeps without hockey. Perhaps he should let Paul talk him into surfing once they’re back in California. Maybe Paul could teach him poker, too. 

“Are you coming?” Paul calls over his shoulder. Teemu jolts into movement and follows Paul down to his ball. 

They’re slow golfers, and by the time they reach hole nine it’s afternoon. Teemu makes the executive decision that they’re done for the day, not in the least because he’s losing and the margin looks to only get worse. Paul agrees readily enough, and they take a late lunch in the clubhouse. Paul offers Teemu a bite of his fish, which Teemu chooses to interpret as a sign of forgiveness for his earlier slight. Teemu drinks a beer and wonders if Paul will want to go fishing when they get up to his brother’s place. 

“You are coming with me to my brother’s?” he asks as they’re riding in a cab back to the apartment. “I told them you were coming.”

“You booked my tickets,” Paul says wryly. “I suppose I could stay back here with Sanaa.”

“No, I want you there,” Teemu says. 

“Then I’ll come,” Paul says. 

Sanaa calls later to say that they’ve arrived safely at her sister’s with minimal casualties – Venla cried once because she tripped and skinned her knee, and Eelis had dropped his phone but hadn’t broken the screen. Paul makes dinner while Teemu talks to her, moving around the kitchen with the slight hesitance of someone unfamiliar with the space. Teemu finds himself reaching over Paul’s shoulder to open cabinets for him, pressing along his back to reach to where Sanaa stores the spices. 

“Are you boys having fun?” Sanaa asks once she’s finished her recounting of the car journey. 

“We golfed today,” Teemu says. “We didn’t finish the whole course, but yeah, it was fun.”

“Good,” she says. “Oh – shit, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, _Luukas don’t touch that!_ ” The line goes dead, and Teemu has a brief moment of intense longing for his children, for their noise and chaos and the tears and shouts. He always had that to come home to before, and it’s odd these days when he arrives back to an empty, quiet house or apartment. He’ll wander from room to room, touching Eelis’s AYSO trophy and Venla’s favorite book, thrown haphazardly on top of a pile of dirty clothes. He can’t imagine how Paul has done it for nearly twenty years. 

“What’s cooking?” he asks Paul, hooking his chin over Paul’s shoulder to look at the stove. Paul doesn’t shrug him off, even when Teemu pushes his luck and wraps his arms around Paul’s waist. 

“Pasta,” Paul says calmly, stirring the bubbling pot. “With peas and squash.”

Teemu hums in approval and kisses Paul’s temple. Paul stills, turning very slightly. From this angle, Teemu can mostly see just the edges of Paul’s eyelashes and the downward curve of his cheek, but he can tell Paul is frowning. 

“What’s going on?” Paul asks. 

“You’re amazing,” Teemu says sincerely. “I’m glad I got to keep you.”

“Hmm,” Paul says, returning to stirring the pot. “I think I kept you.”

Teemu snorts indignantly. “How?”

“I was the reason Jack traded for you,” Paul says. “I liked you, so when he had the chance to get you, he took it.”

“Okay, maybe,” Teemu concedes. “But after that.”

Paul shrugs, or shrugs as best he can with Teemu’s head still propped on his shoulder. “Maybe.”

They split another bottle of wine with dinner, which they eat on the couch because the dining room table seems a bit much for only two people. Paul sits close to Teemu, elbows touching, and when they finish eating, he makes Teemu do the dishes. 

“Are you going to sleep in the master bedroom tonight?” Paul asks Teemu when Teemu has put the plates in the dishwasher and set the wine glasses to dry on the sideboard. 

Teemu is about to say yes, of course when he notices the way Paul isn’t quite meeting his eyes. “I don’t have to,” he says cautiously. 

“I’m offering,” Paul says. “If you – if that isn’t –”

“No,” Teemu says. He steps forward and cups Paul’s jaw so Paul looks him in the eye. When he’s sure that Paul is looking at him, he kisses Paul very deliberately on the mouth.

“Oh,” Paul says when they part, and then he pulls Teemu back toward him, those graceful hands clenching in Teemu’s shirt with a desperation Teemu isn’t used to seeing in him. This kiss is affirming where the last one had been cautious, and if Teemu had any doubts that Paul wants him too, that would be enough to erase them.

They leave the lights on in the bedroom, which maybe they don’t need since they have seen each other’s bodies so many times over the years that any novelty or sense of discovery is lost, but Teemu appreciates being able to worship Paul properly, being able to find the mole on his back by sight and kiss it before moving down the curve of his spine to the swell of his ass and scraping his teeth there. Paul’s breath quickens at that, almost unnoticeable if Teemu weren’t straining to hear for it. 

Teemu moans when Paul turns over and reaches for him. He’s loud by nature and can’t help groaning when Paul gets a hand on his dick and starts jerking him off with the skill of long practice. Teemu hasn’t had sex with a man in more than twenty years and needs a few moments to get reacclimated to the angle so his wrist won’t ache in the morning, but Paul’s sharp inhale of breath when Teemu touches him is more than worth it. 

He bites at Paul’s lower lip playfully, trying to get Paul to smile, and he does, eyes fluttering open to look at Teemu. Paul’s cheeks are flushed, hectic, and when he comes he lets out his first real noise of the night, a choked moan that’s softness is at odds with how hard Paul trembles beneath him. Paul tightens his grip on Teemu, seemingly reflexively. Teemu swears loudly in Finnish and comes too, collapsing forward with his face pressed into Paul’s neck. 

They move very slowly, neither of them seemingly willing to get up and do the necessary tasks of cleaning up before going to sleep. Teemu pulls Paul into his arms and rests back against the pillows, tangling their bare legs together. Paul traces his fingers along Teemu’s hip. He’s smiling, seemingly unconsciously. 

“Why did you come here with me?” Teemu asks. 

“You booked my flight for me,” Paul says. When Teemu bites his ear lightly, he laughs and says, “Because you asked.”

“That’s all it takes?” Teemu asks. 

“Usually, with you,” Paul says. He ducks his head to kiss Teemu’s collarbone. “It’s one of those things.”

Teemu half-expects Paul to ask why Teemu had invited him in the first place, but he suspects Paul already knows. It’s likely the same reason that Paul came, the same reason that they keep coming back to each other even now that their lives don’t intersect as much as they used to. Eighteen years just isn’t enough, not for either of them. 

“We should get cleaned up,” Paul says, not moving. 

“Wait a little longer,” Teemu says. He tightens his grip on Paul’s shoulders. “We have nowhere to be tomorrow.”

Paul nods and smiles before kissing Teemu languorously, the kind of relaxed kiss that always comes after sex when there’s no goal but the pleasure of being joined to someone else. His hand continues to trace mysterious patterns against Teemu’s skin. Against Teemu’s calf, Paul’s foot flexes, cold toes pressing against his ankle. Teemu circles his hand around Paul’s wrist and holds on.


End file.
